The Death of Hope
by MoIIuscophobia
Summary: "The Wisest know, that death comes to us all one day, whether we be young, old, wise, or foolish. He is not early, and he is not late, he arrives precisely when he means to and when he comes, there is nothing we can do to escape him." Voldemort had a fear. Death. What happens when he finally meets it?"


The Death of Hope

The Wisest know, that death comes to us all one day, whether we be young, old, wise, or foolish. He is not early, and he is not late, he arrives precisely when he means to and when he comes, there is nothing we can do to escape him.

There are those of us who are ignorant to his power. There are those amongst us that believe that they can escape death by running, hiding, and even some who believe they can stare him in the face and simply tell him "Not today".

Tom Marvolo Riddle, suffered from a fear. It was crippling fear that had dominated his life. Like fire does Kindling, it had consumed him turning him into a monster. You see, Voldemort, the infamous dark lord, was petrified of death.

He had spent his life, running, hiding, and cowering in the corners in a desperate bid to escape the cloaked menace that lurked in dark alleyways. After many years, Voldemort had finally thought he had escaped death. He was wrong. For Death, is patient, and he is creeping. Just when you think you are free of him, he sneaks up behind you and snatches your soul from your mouth before you can even breathe "Stop".

For the first time in his life, Voldemort had met his match. Harry Potter.

Harry was just a young boy. Barely older than child, the lightning bolt across his forehead taunted Voldemort; It reminded him sorely of the day he had nearly met death. The day all his power had been torn from him and he was left in a state of nothingness, Voldemort took a deep breath. He had the elder wand. He would be fine. It could not be beaten, and with it neither could he.

Harry was strong; within him was something that Voldemort was unfamiliar to. Love. Behind Harry stood his followers, they were not like death eaters. They were not his dutiful servants, they did not fear him, or loathe him. They loved him, and he loved them. They were his friends.

Friends. Something Voldemort had never had.

But Voldemort didn't need friends, he didn't need anyone to care or love him. Did he? Voldemort bit back his confusion. He was going to win, the world was going to bow before him and Harry Potter, would finally meet his end, and with him so would all his "Friends".

Voldemort felt the elder wand fight against, not Harry but him. With desperation he clutched it, battering out spells as though there was no tomorrow. But no amount of dark magic could stop his wand slip from his grip. In that moment Voldemort knew it was all over. It flew towards Harry. Its rightful master.

Voldemort crumpled to his knees as Harry prepared to strike him with the Elder wand. The strangest thing happened to Voldemort in that moment. His life flashed through his eyes.

He remembered everything, his troubled childhood in that dratted orphanage with not a friend or family member in sight. Then he remembered Hogwarts, his home. His salvation. But even Hogwarts could not protect him from the darkness that corrupted his every thought. Even Hogwarts could not find him friends.

Voldemort recounted every murder, every sadistic slaughter he had committed. He remembered his victim's eyes, as the life left them. Their bodies turning cold in his grip. No light, no life, no hope.

Tom, that was his real name, realised something as the life left his eyes and death ensnared him in its deathly grip. Tom realised that he was nothing; he wasn't even a whisper in the wind. He would die and not a soul would miss him, in fact, people would take joy in his death.

Taking his last breath he looked at Harry. The boy who had beat him. The boy who had everything he had never had. The last feeling Tom felt was jealousy. Then the darkness surrounded him and death finally caught up with him.

The Wisest know, that death is nothing to be feared. There was however, one exception. Voldemort. He was right to fear it. For all of his deeds, he was rewarded with his greatest fear. A swirling pit of nothingness and a limbo that he could never return from.

A/N

Taken from one of my other story "100 words" I sort of just expanded on the 100 words and created this, slightly dark and experimental piece of writing. It's not that good, but hey ho? It is what it is.

Please Review, even if it's just "Great" or on the other hand "Absolutely disastrously appallingly bad!"


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